


A Walk in the Wild

by wednesday



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alpha Solas (Dragon Age), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega Lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 11:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday
Summary: The night takes an unexpected turn.





	A Walk in the Wild

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadow_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/gifts).



> You didn't say if you wanted porn, so I'm giving you something like porn!

The night is peaceful, which Solas is both grateful for and very exasperated at. The scouts at the camp seem to take his lack of interest in their merry-making as a challenge, and delay his escape for much longer than he has the patience for.

Finally he bids goodnight and leaves for the tent at the very edge of the camp. They’re less than a day’s ride away from Dirthamen’s temple, and Solas has been looking forward to walking the Fade here and seeing for himself what happened and how it came to be abandoned. Find some of it’s secrets, perhaps, many of which they most definitely missed. Something that could help him regain his powers all the sooner.

Even the air here smells familiar in some way Solas can’t quite describe, but that’s been making his teeth itch and his skin feel wrong all day. He has to put effort into remaining in this form, and he’s not sure it’s ever happened before.

Solas inhales deeply and enters the tent he’s sharing with the Inquisitor. He’d seemed tired most of the day, and retired early, so at least he’s very unlikely to notice, if Solas accidentally grows claws while he sleeps. Ah, he’s feeling too reckless lately.

The moment Solas steps into the tent, he’s hit by a wall of scent, this scent, oh, he should have recognized it sooner, but he didn’t expect-

As his eyes adjust to the lack of light, he sees Lavellan shifting restlessly on his bedroll, white hair tangled and spread around his head like snow. He’s stripped naked and the blankets are tangled around his legs in a way that hides his arousal not at all.

Solas doesn’t attempt to pretend he’s not staring, and it takes him a minute to realize he’s growling, though thankfully low enough to not be heard by anyone in the camp. Lavellan, on the other hand, finally notices him, his face a picture of desperation.

“Solas, please, I don’t know what-- What’s wrong with me?” His voice is rough already, and his hands are clenching in the blankets in an obvious attempt to not touch himself.

“You,” Solas starts, clears his throat, “You’re in heat.” He very clearly is, and Solas should not be here, but he can’t make himself leave. It’s much too late for that.

“I- what? Elves don’t, that’s--” Lavellan’s attempts to speak are interrupted by a badly muffled moan.

“Apparently you do now. It’s. The magic in your hand is elvhen. It might have, hmm, changed you,” Solas says carefully, trying to make his words clear even around the fangs that he no longer has the self control to keep hidden.

“It. I thought that, that was just a myth. That the ancient elves--”

“They were. They did.” They definitely did, though for immortal beings such a thing happened very rarely. For Lavellan, well.

“What do I, how do I make it stop? Solas, please, it _hurts_.”

“Don’t worry, Inquisitor, I will make it stop,” Solas says, voice barely above a growl. He undresses with haste, hard since the moment Lavellan’s scent hit him. He will have to walk the Fade some other night.

Solas’s clothes have barely hit the ground, when he falls to his knees. Lavellan reaches for him with a whispered _please,_ so different from the mild politeness they usually converse with. Solas growls again when he sees Lavellan’s eyes, black with lust, the violet only a thin ring of color.

They fight with the twisted blankets for a few moments, and then there’s nothing stopping Solas from taking, claiming him. Lavellan kisses him clumsily and Solas kisses back and gives up all restraint. He tastes blood – his fangs too sharp, but Lavellan moans and clutches him closer.

His nails leave stinging lines on Solas’s back, and Solas grips his shoulder and flips him over easily, no longer able to conceal his strength. Lavellan’s moans are now muffled by the blankets, and with some distant part of his mind Solas remembers they should avoid being heard.

Lavellan tries to get his knees under himself, and grinds against Solas in the process. It’s entirely too distracting. Solas takes advantage of the new position and pushes into Lavellan, sinks inside with a long thrust. Lavellan tenses and the next moment relaxes so fast he almost melts into the blankets. Solas holds himself still, trying to remember, regain some control and-

All he can focus on are Lavellan’s hitching breaths, every exhale an audible gasp, and his hands fisted into the blankets again. His hips are twitching, trying to push back against the bruising grip Solas has on him. It’s intoxicating, and Solas can’t think, can’t remember why-

Solas draws back and thrusts forward, fucks Lavellan the way he’s sometimes dreamt of doing. He’s always stepped back and let those dreams dissolve into mist, but here and now he can’t imagine stopping. Lavellan pushes back like he wants it just as much, and Solas leans down and mouths at the back of his neck.

Solas doesn’t keep track of how long it takes, but he can feel the strain in his muscles by the time his knot starts filling. Lavellan’s moans sound more like sobs when Solas bites down and with a growl pushes forward until his knot is fully sheathed inside Lavellan. Lavellan comes with a shout and after a couple of short thrusts so does Solas.

They lie exhausted and still tied together, and Solas floats in a haze of pleasure he can’t quite remember ever feeling before.

“Solas?” Lavellan’s voice, even rough and muffled by the blankets, sounds frightened. Solas tries to speak and realizes with dawning horror, that he can taste blood in his mouth from where he’s bitten Lavellan’s neck. The pleasant haze dissolves, and he remembers all the reasons this should not have happened.

He tries to pull away, but only manages to make them both moan, when the knot catches and holds them together.

“ _Solas_ ,” Lavellan moans, and he doesn’t sound scared any more. He pushes back against Solas again, and worst of all, he now smells like he belongs to Solas.


End file.
